


Loh Ha

by KJaneway115



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, POV First Person, Realization, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-18 00:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11280246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KJaneway115/pseuds/KJaneway115
Summary: After Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant, Chakotay returns to his home planet in search of all he feels he has lost, but are all the answers he seeks on Trebus? Chakotay's POV.





	1. Loh ha

**Author's Note:**

> The native words and names used in this story are derived from ancient Mayan dialects and come from a variety of online sources. I am not a scholar of native languages, and my use of the words in this story is not intended as an accurate portrayal of any particular real language. Chac is an ancient Mayan name for a god of storms.
> 
> Many thanks, as always, to Mizvoy for the editing.

**PART ONE**

 

* * *

  
  
_Loh ha_

 

* * *

  
  
_Loh ha._   Literally, it means “redeeming water.”  Generations ago, when my ancestors left Earth and sought to preserve their way of life on another planet, they gave this name to a lake on Trebus.  When I imagine the way the lake must have looked two hundred years ago, when they arrived, it is not hard to understand why they gave it this name.  Even today, when the planet has been ravaged by war and conflict, _Loh ha_ is one of the purest, most untouched sites on our world.  
  
Its clear blue water stretches for many kilometers, then trickles down into rivers that supply clean water to dozens of villages.  At its deepest point, the lake descends over twenty meters, and it provides a home for hundreds of species of marine and plant life.  The northern edge of the lake is capped by a desert mountain range.  The water sloshes onto rocks as they ascend into great peaks which seem to touch the sky.  On its south end, the lake borders a lush forest, full of tall, ancient trees.  Much of this forest was destroyed during the conflict with the Cardassians, but I am astonished, now, to see how much of it has begun already to regrow.  
  
It has been nearly ten years since I last set foot on Trebus, much longer since I immersed myself in the healing waters of _Loh ha_ , but now I stand at the water’s edge, feeling its cool liquid lap against my bare toes, and already I feel the energy of the place healing me, giving me new life.  I hear my sister’s children laughing and playing near the cabin, and I feel a smile begin deep in my belly and slowly work its way up through my chest, through my arms, through my fingers, and finally into every muscle of my face.  I feel a lump in my throat, and I realize that it signifies the presence of tears - tears I have not cried since...  I cannot remember the last time I cried.  I swallow, hard, and push them down.  I don’t wish to cry right now.  But it is good to know that maybe, I still can.  
  
The first time I was here, I was younger than my sister’s children are now.  I was with my _tata_ and my _na_ , my brother Yochi and my two sisters, Emetaly and Sekaya.  My grandfather, my _taatich_ , was with us then, too.  They are all gone now, all except Sekaya.  Yochi was the oldest, then Emetaly, then me, and Sekaya was the baby of the family.  The village where we lived is not far from _Loh ha_ , and our parents built a cabin here when Yochi was a baby.  In the extreme heat of Treban summers, we escaped to the cabin whenever we could, often walking the eight kilometers from the village just to spend a couple of days near the lake.    
  
My childhood memories of the lake are filled with joy.  I ran through the woods with my brothers, sisters and cousins.  We pretended that we were navigating the jungle on a distant planet or fighting alien races.  We imagined we were our ancestors, building monumental temples and a vast empire.  We spent many days playing sports in the fields, boys against girls, cousins against cousins, older against younger.  We played and ran until we were sticky with sweat, and then we stripped down to our underwear and jumped into the cool water of _Loh ha_ , cleansing ourselves from our play.  On the hottest days of the year, we spent almost the entire day in the lake.  Our parents had to drag us away from the shore and force us to sit on the grass for long enough to eat our lunches and digest our food before we returned to the water.  That was before the Cardassians, before the Maquis.  
  
When the Cardassians came, everything changed.  I was long gone by then; I ran away and joined Starfleet when I was only sixteen.  In the twenty years between the time I graduated from the Academy and the day I resigned my commission, I visited Trebus exactly four times.  My relationship with my father had become increasingly difficult, and although I loved my mother and siblings, I allowed the bad blood between my father and myself to keep me away.  My sisters and brother came to visit me when I had shore leave, and I brought my mother to Earth a few times to see me, but my relationship with my family was weak in those years.  The last time I saw my mother was in 2366.  Twelve years ago.  I had no idea that only weeks later, she would be gone forever.  
  
By some miracle, Sekaya was spared.  She was not in our village that day but was visiting her boyfriend in another town.  But my mother, Yochi and Emetaly were killed.  All in one day.  My father was off fighting with the Maquis already, trying to protect his family, his _cotoch_ \- homeland.  I did nothing.  My father’s death two years later finally prompted me to resign from Starfleet, to become an outlaw and join the Maquis myself.  When I made that decision, I returned to Trebus to witness firsthand the devastation the Cardassians had perpetrated.  I stood then, as I do today, at the edge of the waters of _Loh ha_ , but I received no redemption.  I felt only anger and hatred, feelings that stayed with me for a long time.  Ten years later, I return a different man.  
  
Little Xaman, Sekaya’s oldest, runs up to me, already wearing his swim trunks.  “ _Oeyum_ , will you watch us while we go in the lake?” he asks, already in the water up to his knees.    
  
“Sure,” I reply, my smile returning as I watch the boy eagerly embrace the lake, just as I had done when I was his age.  The children banish the ghosts of the past from my mind, at least temporarily.  Xaman’s little sister, Eme, is trailing behind him, her four-year-old legs unable to keep up with her older brother.  She stands at the edge of the sandy beach near the water, eagerly pulling down her pants.  Before I know it, she is in the water, too, completely naked.    
  
While Xaman asks me to watch him do tricks in the lake, I feel a warm, familiar hand on my shoulder.  “How does it feel to be back?”  
  
My little sister is not so little anymore.  She is beautiful; her long, straight black hair flows down her back, and her jean shorts and white t-shirt flatter her lithe figure.  I put my arm around her and pull her against me.  “It feels good, _iits’in_ ,” I call her by an old pet name that means ‘little sister.’  “And strange.  Like there’s a part of myself I’ve forgotten was there.”  
  
She nods.  “That makes sense.  You’ve been away from this place for a long time - away from the redemption of the waters, away from the love of your family.”  
  
“What’s left of it,” I whisper.  
  
Sekaya’s arm tightens around my waist.  “Our family is growing again, Chakotay.  Xaman and Eme are only the beginning.  We cannot dwell in the past.”  
  
“I know.”  I try to shrug off the strange feeling of nostalgia that has overcome me.  “Being here makes me remember a lot of things I haven’t thought about in a long time.”  I pause.  Xaman and Eme are digging a trench in the dirt, making a little river that leads away from the lake.  The sound of their laughter is a balm to my soul, like my sister’s arm around me and her thin body pressed against my side.  “I’m not angry anymore,” I say softly.  
  
Sekaya actually laughs.  “Chakotay, you are the storm.  _Tata_ and _Na_ named you well.  You cannot escape your nature.  The storm will always be a part of you.”  She pauses.  “But I am glad you don’t feel angry.”  
  
“I feel a lot of other things,” I say, only realizing it is true as the words come out of my mouth.  “I feel sad.  I feel tired.  I feel...”  I stop.  I don’t know how to finish the sentence.  
  
Suddenly, Eme is crying.  Sekaya disengages from my side and goes to her daughter.  “What’s wrong, _chaanpal_?”  
  
“Xaman took my shovel!” the little girl wails.    
  
I motion for the seven-year-old to come to me while Sekaya comforts his sister.  “Xaman, did you take your sister’s shovel?”   
  
“I just wanted to borrow it.”    
  
“When you want to borrow something from someone, you need to ask them first.”  
  
“I did ask.”  
  
“And did Eme give you permission to use her shovel?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then you shouldn’t have taken it.”  
  
“I only needed it for a second!”  
  
I take my nephew by the shoulder and steer him away from the beach where his mother is still drying his sister’s tears.  “Xaman, do you want to see a special place?”  
  
He looks up at me, his eyes wide with wonder and excitement.  “What kind of place?”  
  
“Come on.  I’ll show you.  Put on your shoes.”  I wink at my sister and she smiles back, remaining behind to help Eme build her canal in the sand.  I take Xaman to the edge of the clearing where our family cabin lies.  “I know it’s here somewhere,” I murmur as I look for a path that was once familiar.    
  
“What are you looking for, _Oeyum_?”    
  
Finally, I find it.  The path is pretty well overgrown, but I still recognize it.  I pull aside weeds and branches as I lead my nephew through the woods.  After a few minutes, I stop.  “There it is,” I say, pointing straight ahead.  In the center of a small clearing sits a huge rock.  It is almost three times as tall as Xaman and has a diameter of about two meters.  
  
“Woah!” my nephew exclaims.  
  
“Want to climb it?” I ask.  He nods eagerly, and I lead him around to the other side of the rock.  I set my large foot into the grooves that had been made by us as children.  I climbed this rock with my brother and sisters hundreds of times.  It had been our secret place.  I look back, prepared to offer my nephew a hand, but he’s doing just fine on his own, climbing behind me.  It only takes me a few steps to reach the top; somehow the rock seems much shorter than it did forty years ago.  We stand on the pinnacle, next to each other, Xaman and I.  I see in him so many echoes of myself as a boy.  “Your mother, Emetaly and Yochi and I used to come here - sometimes for picnics, sometimes just to talk.  This was our secret place.  We used to escape up here whenever the cabin got too crowded, or...”  
  
“Or you needed to get away from your family?” Xaman asks.  
  
I sit down on the rock’s mossy surface, and my nephew does the same.  “Xaman, I know it’s easy to get frustrated with your family, and sometimes, it is good to be alone.  That’s why I brought you here, so you have someplace to go if you ever need to be alone, to think.  But spending time with your family is important, too.  You only get one family.”  I pause.  “I know it’s hard to understand when you’re a kid.”  
  
Xaman shakes his head.  “No, I understand.  Before this week, I never even knew what it was like to have an uncle.  Now I do.  But you’re my only uncle; I’ll never have another one.”  
  
I feel that lump in my throat again, and I pull my nephew to me in a fierce hug.  I know if I cry now, I’ll only embarrass him, so I force the emotions away and just hug him, reveling in the feel of his small body in my arms.  
  
After dinner, Sekaya’s husband puts the kids to bed and leaves her and me alone, on purpose I’m sure.  We sit by a fire we’ve made down by the lake, drinking Antarian cider.  The taste of the cider awakens other memories in me - memories that I push to the back of my mind.  
  
“So, tell me what happened with that girl,” my little sister demands.  
  
It takes me a moment before I realize who she’s talking about.  “Not much.”  
  
“It didn’t sound like ‘not much’ when I spoke to you right after _Voyager_ returned.”  
  
The sound that comes out of my body is something between a chortle and a groan.  “Well, I was wrong then.  About a lot of things.”  
  
My sister moves closer to me on the log where we’re sitting and takes my hand in hers.  “Tell me about it.”  
  
It has been so long since I have been able to have a truly open, honest conversation with anybody, let alone my dearest sister, that I don’t know where to begin.  Have I forgotten how to open up after all these years of reining in my feelings, controlling my emotions, focusing on what needed to be done?  I take a deep breath and feel how good it is to have my sister’s hand in mine, to feel the support and love radiating from her.  I had friends on _Voyager_ , sure.  B’Elanna and I were always close.  And Kathryn.  But it wasn’t the same out there - nothing was.  Duty was first.  The ship was first.  Our mission was first.  Protocol was first.  It had to be that way.  Kathryn and I agreed on that from the very beginning, and my conviction that was the right choice for all of us never wavered.  Hell, it got us home in only seven years, didn’t it?  Only now, as I am slowly welcomed back into my own family, do I begin to see what we truly lost out there.  What I truly lost.  I became disconnected from myself, and as I realize this, I understand where to begin.  Honesty.  _Haahil_.  Truth.  
  
“I thought I knew what I was doing,” I say, and then I pause, collecting my thoughts, going back to the beginning.  “It’s funny, I couldn’t stand Seven when we first brought her on board.  I told the captain to throw her out an airlock.  But I guess Seven didn’t feel the same way about me.”  
  
“How could she?” my sister teases.  “My _suku’un_ is handsome, smart, talented...  What woman could resist?”  
  
I roll my eyes at my sister’s teasing, then continue.  “The way she looked at me, trusted me, admired me - it was very seductive.  The fact that I was the one person she wanted to trust with her heart - a heart that was so fragile and naive - made her almost irresistible.  And she was honest.  She is honest, totally, and that was refreshing to me.  I had stopped believing I would ever have a relationship with anybody, at least not as long as we were out there, and then there was Seven, shyly asking me if I would ‘do the honor of accompanying her on a date.’  I couldn’t say no.  I didn’t want to.”  
  
“You had been alone for a long time.  Everyone needs companionship, Chakotay.”  
  
“Yes.  But we need the right kind of companionship.”  I pause.  This is difficult for me to say, but I am forcing myself to be brutally honest for the first time in a long time, and although it is hard, it also feels right.  _Haahil_.  “I thought that Seven could offer me the kind of companionship I wanted - want - and have wanted for a long time.  But the truth is, she’s not mature enough.  She’s like a teenager.  What happened between us was not her fault.  If anything, it was mine.  I should have been the older, wiser, more mature one.  I should have realized what I was doing, and that, no matter how much she acted like it, there was no way she could be ready for the kind of commitment and depth that I wanted.”  I have been staring into the fire as I have been talking, but now I turn to my sister, to look into her eyes.  “I was stupid.  I should have known better.”  
  
“Maybe,” Sekaya replies.  “But you didn’t, and you can’t erase what happened.  Do you remember the old saying?  ‘Do not rail at the storm, but adjust yourself to whatever comes.’  This has happened, Chakotay.  Now the real question is whether you can learn from it, and what you will learn.”  
  
“When did you get so wise?”  
  
She chuckles against me as I pull her into a hug.  “I’ve had a little bit of time to grow up since you’ve been gone.”  
  
I release her from the hug.  “Yes, I know.”  I tell her how I took Xaman to our rock, and how proud I was when he understood what I was trying to tell him about the importance of family.  We talk long into the night, but I am not tired, even though I have not slept since I was on the transport ship almost twenty hours earlier.  
  
Sekaya is seven years my junior, and I ran off to the Academy when she was only nine, but of all my siblings, she was the best about staying in touch while I was away.  We talked over subspace every week.  I loved her more than anything, and much as I was overwhelmed with grief when Yochi and Emetaly were killed, I thanked the spirits that they had spared Sekaya.  She tells me about Muluc, her husband.  He was the boyfriend she was visiting in a neighboring town on that fateful day when our mother and siblings were killed.  For the first time, we talk about that day.  She tells me what it was like.  She tells me how Muluc comforted her, how his family took her in and cared for her when she was drowning in grief.    
  
I talk about _Voyager_ , about the Delta Quadrant.  I talk about the Hirogen and the Vaadwuar.  I talk about Species 8472 and our alliance with the Borg.  I tell her about the time I roamed the ship as a disembodied spirit and about how our “crazy gene” saved the ship in chaotic space.  I tell her about Tom and B’Elanna, how they found each other and started a family.  I tell her about quirky Neelix and darling Kes, and innocent Harry Kim.  I tell her about Naomi Wildman, and Icheb, about our acerbic but well-meaning doctor.  I tell her about Tuvok, a man I once viewed as a traitor, but who I now consider a friend.  I have written to my sister periodically since _Voyager_ established contact with Starfleet, but we have been unable to speak in person, and letters are no substitute for a real, in-depth, in-person conversation.  We add wood to the fire and open another bottle of cider.  I have no idea what time it is, but I think it must be two or three in the morning.  I feel a pleasant warmth in my gut, and I know my tongue has been loosened by the alcohol.  But there’s still one subject I avoid.  
  
Sekaya is the one to bring it up as the fire roars in front of us, and I am mesmerized by the dancing flames - red, orange, gold.  The night air is chilly, but I am warm, from the cider, the fire or both, and Sekaya says, “You’ve talked about every member of _Voyager_ ’s crew except one, _suku’un_.”  
  
“Have I?” I feign innocence.  
  
Sekaya gives me a look, and in it, I see such an echo of our mother, I am taken aback for a moment.  “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”  She stands from the log where we are sitting and goes to the table to fetch the bottle of cider so she can refill our glasses.  She sits back down on the log, facing me, one leg curled up underneath herself, her eyes, dark like mine, glittering in the firelight.  Her voice is gentle when she says, “Tell me about her.”  
  
Again, I’m not sure where to start.  Honesty, I remind myself.  _Haahil_.  What is the old saying?  The truth will set you free?  I wonder if that’s true, in my case.  I begin, “She’s a force of nature.  Unstoppable, determined, uncompromising.  Persistent.  She swore she would get our crew home and she did.”  
  
“In your letters, it seemed like...  I could tell she was more than just your captain.”  
  
“We became friends, out of necessity, I think.  She had no one else to turn to.  Tuvok, maybe, but he’s not exactly the guy you go to for emotional support.  And I didn’t have anyone else to turn to either.  We were the command team, and that meant, to some extent, we had to remain apart from the crew.  So, yes, we were friends.”  
  
“Not more than friends?”  
  
“No,” I answer, too quickly.    
  
“Did you want to be more?”  
  
I shake my head slowly.  “Sekaya, Seven’s not the only stupid mistake I’ve made where woman are concerned.  I never told you about Seska, a woman I was seeing while I was in the Maquis.  I won’t go into the details now, but suffice it to say, that experience convinced me that being in a relationship with someone on my crew would be a disaster.”  
  
“You can’t tell me you never thought about it.  Your tone when you wrote about her, the way you speak her name, it is like you are saying _yaakuntik_.”  
  
I turn my eyes back to the fire and feel a blush of embarrassment rising in my cheeks.  The word my sister has just said is a word in our language that means “beloved,” or “soul mate.”  It’s a word I had almost forgotten.  “I care for Kathryn,” I admit.  “I care for her deeply.  I once swore to her that I would stand by her side and do whatever I could to make her burdens lighter.  And I’ve done that.  For seven years, that was the primary purpose of my life.  Sometimes it meant disagreeing with her, doing things she didn’t approve of, even fighting with her.  But the truth is, I did it because I cared.  Kathryn and I have a deep connection, but we’ve never been more than friends, and I don’t believe we ever will be.  We lived for too long in a command structure.  We gave up too much of ourselves.  We sacrificed everything so that our crew could have their lives, so that they could get home.  I’m not sure I know her anymore; I don’t know if I ever did.  But more than that, I don’t know if I know myself.”  
  
“You are afraid of what giving yourself to her would do to you.”  
  
“Don’t tell me what I feel,” I bite back, lashing out in sudden anger.    
  
My sister doesn’t back down.  “Is that why you ran away to Trebus instead of staying on Earth after the debriefings were done?  You didn’t want to face Kathryn after what happened with Seven?”  
  
“I didn’t run away.  I had to see you, to be with my family.  I lost so much time with you.”  My body is shaking as all my pent up emotion rises to the surface.  “I lost years with _tata_ and _na_ , with Emetaly and Yochi, and with you, but I didn’t realize it until it was too late.”  I feel the lump rising in my throat again, and this time, I don’t push it away.  I let the tears fill my eyes and slide down my cheeks.  
  
Sekaya puts a comforting arm around my shoulders and slides closer to me.  “Don’t mistake me, Chakotay.  I am happy you are here.  I want Xaman and Eme to know their _oeyum_.  You say that you don’t know yourself, and that you have come here to find what you have lost.  It’s true, part of you is here, on Trebus, at _Loh ha_.  These waters will cleanse you.  They will renew your spirit.  But you must know that not all of the answers you seek are here.  Part of you is on Trebus, but part of you has never been here.  Even when we were children, your heart was in the stars.  That’s where you belong.  Maybe Kathryn is part of that.”  
  
I hold onto my sister and let myself cry for a little while.  I’ve heard her words, but I don’t know how to respond, so I say nothing, and we remain together in silence.  A little while later, the dying embers of the fire glimmer before us, and Sekaya goes into the cabin to bed.  The cabin is small and only has two bedrooms, so I am sleeping outdoors in a tent while Sekaya and Muluc sleep in one room and the kids share the other.  I stay outdoors by the fire, staring at its orange glow until it dies completely.  
  
A faint glimmer of sunlight appears on the horizon, and I realize that I have stayed up the whole night.  I stand at the edge of the waters of _Loh ha_ and think about the words my sister and I have exchanged.  I let myself feel the full spectrum of emotions that is coursing through me - sadness, regret, embarrassment, anger, joy, gratitude, confusion, love.  I feel it all.  I close my eyes and stretch my arms out to my sides, willing the universe to imbue me with strength, to fill me with new spirit.  I take a deep breath; the air smells sweet and fresh.  Then I open my eyes and look out at the lake.  It is perfectly still, like glass.  
  
I stand on the beach and remove my shoes, shirt, pants and underwear.  Fully nude, I walk into the water, feeling it surround and envelop me, letting it take me in.  It is cold, but I enjoy the sensation, and my alcohol-induced sluggishness disappears.  I let the feelings course through me as I fully immerse my body in _Loh ha_.  Finally, I plunge my head under the water and allow the lake to cover me.  It feels like a baptism.    
  
I swim out into the bay in long, powerful strokes, and realize that I have gotten quite far from the beach before I turn around.  I feel my extremities begin to turn cold, but my body is invigorated by the sensation, and I swim easily back to shore.  _Loh ha_.  Redeeming water.  When I emerge, I feel renewed.  I am not sure I will ever feel redeemed, but it’s a start.  I dry myself with a towel and crawl into my tent, covering myself with blankets so I don’t catch a chill, and then, finally, I sleep.  
  
That day, I sleep till after noon, and Sekaya lets me.  She keeps the kids away from my tent, knowing how much I need the rest.  When I wake up, I find that Muluc’s mother, my sister’s _ixhaan_ , has made blueberry pancakes and saved some for me.  She immediately insists that I call her _ixhaan_ , mother-in-law, and treats me like one of the family.  I’m a little taken aback by this; it’s been so long since I’ve been around my own people, I’ve almost forgotten my own culture.   
  
I spend the next two weeks getting to know my sister’s family.  After only a couple days, Eme, who was shy around me at first, is curling up next to me and asking for a bedtime story.  Xaman and I go back to the rock for a picnic, and he tells me all about the small school he attends and the sports he likes to play.  I find that Muluc and I have a lot in common.  We sit around the lake at night, drinking beer and exchanging war stories, for he, too, was a member of the Maquis.  I realize that I’ve never really talked about the war.  We were swept out of the middle of it, and seven years of non-stop action didn’t give us any time to think about what had transpired.  We grieved when we learned that the Maquis had been slaughtered by the Jem’Hadar, but we were so far away.  I never had a chance to process what happened to me, to my friends and family, to a cause that helped determine the course of my life.  It feels good to talk about it with someone else who was there.  It feels good to talk, period.  
  
Sekaya and her family don’t stay at the lake all the time.  Muluc runs a small business in town, and he has to go to work some days.  It is the middle of the Treban summer, so the kids are out of school, but some nights, they spend in the village.  I remain at _Loh ha_.  I chop enough wood to fill the wood shed.  I go for long swims and run several miles a day.  For the first time in a long time, I feel inspired to paint.  I buy some sand painting supplies in town and spend hours sitting near the lake, creating patterns, pictures, painting my emotions with colors and shapes.  From the subspace communications network in town, I take time to reconnect with B’Elanna.  We have a long conversation, and it feels good to talk to her.  We haven’t spoken like that in a long time.  
  
Muluc and I decide to build an addition to the cabin - another bedroom, so that I won’t have to sleep in the tent.  We work on it together when he’s not at his shop, and I work alone when he’s busy.  We get the foundation poured the first weekend, and after ten days, we have the basic structure up.  
  
Midway through my second week on Trebus, something happens.  I’m up on the roof of the new room, pounding in a wooden slat when Xaman comes barreling down the hill.  “ _Oeyum_!” he shouts.  “You got a message, Oeyum!”  
  
Xaman stops just below me and looks up.  I pause my work to wipe the sweat out of my eyes as Eme trails after her brother chanting, “A message!  A message!”  

My sister is close behind the children, and she looks up at me, squinting into the sunlight.  “Getting a subspace message is a pretty big event around here,” she explains.  
  
“Is it from B’Elanna?”  I climb down from the roof so I can stand face to face with her.  
  
She shakes her head, her eyes sparkling.  “Your message is from a certain Starfleet captain.”  
  
“A cap...”  I start to ask her what Starfleet captain could possibly want to get ahold of me on Trebus, but then I realize why her eyes are glowing.  
  
“A captain?” Xaman asks, excitement in his tone.  “Do you think they want you to go on a special mission, _Oeyum_?”  
  
“I think it’s just a call from one of your uncle’s old friends, Xaman,” Sekaya replies, trying to calm her son’s excitement.  I think she’s right, but I have no idea why Kathryn would be calling me.  Sekaya sends the children into the cabin to wash up for dinner and gives me a meaningful glance.  “You are going to return her call, aren’t you?”  
  
“Of course.  I’ll do it tomorrow.”  
  
Sekaya pats me on the shoulder.  “Good.”  She pauses and gives me another look.  “She’s welcome to come here, you know.”  
  
“Here?  Why would Kathryn want to come here?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t she?  I just wanted to tell you she’s welcome, in case you decide to invite her, or anything.”  My sister winks at me, and I watch her turn her back and follow her children into the house.  
  
As I climb back up onto the roof to get a little more work done before dinner, I feel a sense of trepidation in my gut.  It’s been over a month since I’ve spoken to Kathryn.  We parted on amicable terms, as friends, but the truth that I revealed to Sekaya on my first night here still stands.  I’m not sure I really know her.  It’s been many years since we experienced each other outside of _Voyager_ and a command structure.  Do I even know who Kathryn is?  Was our friendship a friendship of necessity, as I told my sister on our first night here?  Or is our connection deeper than that?  At the very least, I know I want to find out.  I am getting into the habit of being honest with myself, after all.  
  
The next day, after tossing and turning in my tent all night, I go down to the subspace communications station.  Kathryn’s message is brief.  She wants to know how I am and asks me to return her call.  That’s it.  She looks more relaxed and happy than I’ve seen her in a long time.  She’s let her hair grow, and it almost reaches her shoulders.  Her demeanor reminds me of the woman I met on Quarra and the Kathryn I knew on New Earth.  As I reach to return the call, I feel an uneasiness form in the pit of my stomach, and I realize that I am nervous.  _Don’t be ridiculous_ , I tell myself.  _This is your friend.  Probably your best friend.  You saw her every day for seven years in every conceivable situation.  What’s a little subspace communique?_   I don’t answer my own question.  Instead, I dial the code Kathryn gave me in her message.  It’s not a Starfleet code, and I wonder if she’s bought a house or an apartment somewhere.  
  
It doesn’t take her long to answer the call, but when she does, I’m shocked at the picture that greets me.  Kathryn Janeway, her hair pulled up and away from her face in a clip, is brushing a loose auburn strand out of her eye.  Her hands are covered in a white substance that I quickly recognize as flour - flour which she smears across her forehead as she tries to control her hair - and she is wearing a light blue apron.  “Chakotay!” she exclaims, a huge smile appearing on her face when she sees me.  
  
Her smiles have always be infectious to me, and I feel my own face spread into a broad grin.  “Kathryn.”  Then, because I can’t help it, “Are you... cooking?”  
  
She rolls her eyes and leans into the screen, whispering conspiratorially, “I’m helping my mother bake bread, but the truth is, I think she’d rather have me out of the kitchen.”  
  
I laugh.  “The bread might turn out better that way.”  
  
“Probably.”  She wipes her hands on her apron and pulls it off, revealing a pastel green v-neck sweater.  “How are you, Chakotay?”  
  
“I’m fine.  Good, actually.  I’ve been spending time with Sekaya and getting to know her family.”  
  
Kathryn looks at me as if she’s trying to see through me.  Maybe she is.  Maybe she already does.  She speaks as if she is admonishing me.  “Chakotay, I’ve talked to Seven.”  
  
I feel my whole body tense.  “Oh.  How is she?”  
  
“She’s doing fine.  She told me what happened between the two of you.  She told me she broke it off.”  
  
“That’s true.”  
  
She scrutinizes me across subspace.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”  
  
I look back at her, confused by her concern.  “You mean, because Seven of Nine broke up with me?”  
  
She lowers her eyes, and an emotion - I can’t tell what - flickers across her face, but it is gone before I can identify it.  “Yes.  I know it must have been difficult for you.  I know how much you... cared for her.”  
  
Now I am genuinely puzzled.  What does Kathryn know about my relationship with Seven?  What did Seven tell her that made her think I would be devastated by the break up, so much so that Kathryn is calling me across thousands of light years to make sure I’m all right?  “It was just a few dates, Kathryn,” I say, trying to make light of the situation.  “More than anything, it’s been hard to admit to myself what an idiot I was being.”  
  
“Oh.”  Now it is her turn to appear confused, and I suddenly feel that she’s hiding something from me, but this is not the time or the place to press her.  
  
Instead I change the subject.  “How have you been, Kathryn?  Are you enjoying your leave?”  Starfleet has given us all a mandatory three month leave, and I imagine that for a woman like Kathryn Janeway, so much enforced R&R is a challenge.  
  
“I enjoyed it for about four days, Chakotay.”  She leans into the screen, lowering her voice again.  “The twenty days since then, I’ve been slowly going crazy.  There are only so many times I can let my mother show me how to bake something.  I need to get out of here.”  
  
“Why don’t you come here?”  The words are out of my mouth before I realize I’ve said them, and I’m about to backpedal when I see the expression on her face.  She’s tempted by the offer, so I decide not to withdraw it.    
  
“Really?”  Her voice is full of hope.  “I wouldn’t want to impose on you and your family.”  
  
“It would be no imposition.”  I pause.  “You might have to sleep in a tent, though.  It’s awfully close to camping, I’m not sure you’d like it.”  
  
“I think I could probably handle ‘roughing it’ for a few days.”  Her eyes are sparkling with excitement.  “Is there a bathtub?”  
  
“You’d have the lake.”  
  
For a second, her eyes get a little misty, and I almost think she might be remembering the same moment that I am, but then the second passes, and I wonder if I imagined it.  “I think if I stay in Indiana for any longer with nothing to do, I might go insane.  A change of scenery is just what I need.”  
  
“Great!” I say, surprised that I really do seem to think it’s great.    
  
“I think I have enough pull to commandeer passage on a Federation starship,” she says with a wink.  “What do you think?”  
  
“I don’t know,” I tease her.  “You’re only the most decorated Starfleet captain still living.”  
  
She makes a face.  She doesn’t like to be reminded of the many awards and decorations she received upon our return from the Delta Quadrant, and I don’t blame her.  I would feel the same way in her position.  But that doesn’t mean I can’t tease her about it.  We finish our conversation quickly, and she assures me she will transmit the details of her arrival as soon as she knows them.  As I leave the communications station, I find that the nervousness that resided in my gut when I arrived has been replaced by anticipation.


	2. Haahil

**PART TWO**

 

* * *

  
_Haahil_   
  


* * *

  
The next two weeks are spent much like the past two.  I share meals with my sister and her family, and my niece and nephew worm themselves further and further into my heart.  Ixhaan has us all over to her home for meals and continues to treat me like her own son.  Muluc had a brother who died in the war, and although I know I could never replace him, I think she is grateful for having another man in the house.  She asks me to take Muluc under my wing, and I find myself beginning to act like an older brother to him as well as Sekaya.  
  
I spend every spare moment working on the new room.  Muluc and I made good progress in the first two weeks.  The basic structure of the addition is already complete, but now, I work with newfound vigor.  I don’t examine my motivation for this.  I tell myself I simply need something to keep me occupied.  When the room is finished, I start to craft furniture - a four-poster bed, a small bedside table, a sitting chair.    
  
The kids have already started calling the new room “Kathryn’s room.”  Sekaya said it one night, and Xaman overheard.  Of course, whatever Xaman says, Eme repeats, and the name stuck, much to my chagrin.  The children can’t wait to meet the famous captain of Voyager, even though Sekaya and I have both told them repeatedly that Kathryn is just a friend coming for a visit.  I don’t want them to embarrass her or make her uncomfortable.  The situation might be uncomfortable enough as it is.  Some days I can’t understand what possessed me to invite her.  Even with her own room in the cabin, will she feel at home sharing such cramped quarters with my family?  What is she going to do with herself on Trebus?  She’ll be just as bored as she was in Indiana - maybe even more so.  And more than that, I fear that things between us will be awkward and strained.  I worry that after only a few days, we might find each other intolerable, and her long trip will have been for naught.  
  
On the morning of Kathryn’s scheduled arrival, I take out my Starfleet communicator, which has been buried in my duffel bag for the past several weeks.  She will contact me when the _Enterprise_ makes orbit, and I don’t want to miss her call.  All morning, I am filled with nervous energy.  I try to channel it into a project, but I don’t seem to be able to focus on anything.  I go for a run and a swim, and when I get out of the water, I feel refreshed.  Still not at ease, but more peaceful than I felt earlier.  I’ve just gotten dressed in a pair of brown trousers and a cream colored tunic when I hear the muffled static of my communicator.  
  
“Janeway to Chakotay.”  
  
The phrase evokes such a strong sensory memory that for a moment, I freeze.  I’ve heard her say that thousands of times.  Probably tens of thousands.  But all those times, I knew the context.  I knew who she was to me and who I was to her.  Now, I feel as if I know nothing.  But the moment passes, and I am surprised how easy my voice sounds when I respond, “Chakotay here.”  
  
“The _Enterprise_ has dropped into orbit.  I’m ready to beam down at your convenience.”  
  
“Any time,” I respond, and I realize I’m smiling as I walk out onto the lawn and give her the beam-down coordinates.  
  
Eight seconds later, I hear the low hum of a transporter beam, and Kathryn Janeway materializes in front of me wearing a casual, light blue dress, at her feet a standard Starfleet issue duffel.  Our eyes lock and we stare at each other as she taps her communicator.  “Janeway to _Enterprise_.  I’m all set here, Captain.  Thanks for the lift.”  
  
Picard’s powerful baritone voice replies, “Glad to hear it, Captain.  Enjoy your vacation.  Picard out.”    
  
Her link to the outside world is severed, and she looks up at me and smiles that crooked half-smile of hers.  “Hi.”  
  
“Hi.”  I think I am grinning like an idiot as she steps towards me and gives me a quick hug.  “How was your trip?” I ask, once she’s stepped back.  
  
“Uneventful.  Picard and I have crossed paths a few times over the years, but this was the first chance I had to really spend time with him.  And of course Will Riker and I are old friends; it was good catching up with him.”  
  
“Rekindle any old flames?” I ask.  I can’t resist teasing her about her one failed date with Riker, a story she told me a long time ago during one of our late night chats aboard _Voyager_.  
  
“Hardly.  You know he and Deanna Troi are back together.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yes.  I guess they found the fountain of youth last year and it brought them together again.”    
  
It takes me a moment to realize she’s not joking.  I haven’t had much desire to catch up on Starfleet mission logs from the past seven years, so I am frequently behind the times.  I pick up her duffel bag and gesture to the cabin.  “Let me show you to your room.”  
  
“I thought I’d be sleeping in a tent.”  
  
I shrug.  “I’ve had a lot of time on my hands these past few weeks.”  I see her glance in my direction, her expression unreadable, as she follows me inside.  “The living quarters are pretty small.  I hope you’ll be comfortable.  We tend to spend most of our time outdoors in the summer.”  I show her the tiny kitchen and point out the other two bedrooms.  Then I open the door to ‘her’ room.  
  
“You did all of this?”  
  
I put her bag down on the floor, feeling my heart swell with self-satisfaction at the awe in her voice.  “With some help from my brother-in-law.  Do you like it?”  
  
“It’s wonderful, Chakotay.  Thank you.”  
  
I clear my throat awkwardly.  “Well, it seemed like the cabin was awfully small.  I couldn’t even sleep in it with Sekaya and her family.  Adding another room only made sense.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
We look at each other, and there is a moment of uncomfortable silence.  I clear my throat again and suggest, “I’ll make some lunch while you get settled in.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
I beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen, where I prepare a plate of fruit and cheese, and one of vegetables and hummus.  “I’ll meet you outside,” I call, and when I hear her acknowledgement, I walk down near the lake and arrange the food on a picnic blanket.  It’s not long before I see her sauntering down the hill from the cabin.  Her hair is down, and the breeze blows it in her face, so she has to keep brushing it back, out of her eyes.  The dress is very flattering on her, I notice, the v-neck accentuating the fullness of her breasts, while the cinched in waist emphasizes the sway of her hips as she walks.  _Spirits, she’s beautiful,_ I think.  And then I wonder when I stopped thinking that on _Voyager_.  I don’t have much time to ponder the question, though, because she reaches the picnic blanket and sits down across from me, curling her legs off to one side and supporting her weight with one hand.  
  
“This looks delectable,” she says, gesturing to the spread of food.  
  
“Thanks.”  My voice sounds lame to my ears, but she doesn’t seem to notice.  “You look relaxed,” I blurt out.  
  
She laughs easily.  “I am.  I’m more relaxed than I have been in years.”  She looks me up and down across the picnic blanket, and I feel bashful under her appraisal.  “You look relaxed, too.”  
  
For the past four weeks, I haven’t felt self-conscious.  I haven’t monitored my own thoughts, feelings or behavior.  I have simply allowed myself to be.  But suddenly, around Kathryn, the person who I felt most at home with on _Voyager_ , I find that I’m judging myself constantly.  _Haahil_ , I remind myself.  “To be honest with you, I don’t feel very relaxed right now.”  
  
She looks away from me for a moment and when she speaks, her voice is soft.  “I know.”  She pauses.  “For seven years, we saw each other every single day.  Now we haven’t seen each other in over a month.”  Her blue eyes look up into mine and I am shocked by the openness and transparency of her expression.  “This feels a little awkward, doesn’t it?”  
  
I’m almost speechless, but I manage to say, “Yes.”  
  
She reaches across the blanket and brushes my fingers with hers.  Her touch is electric, and it jolts me fully into the moment.  “That’s okay, isn’t it?  At least it means this is real.  At least it means we can both feel something.”  
  
There’s that lump in my throat again, the one I keep having to force away.  I swallow hard as it dawns on me that perhaps Kathryn does understand some part of what I feel, after all.  “Yes.”  
  
She breaks my gaze and takes some fruit and cheese from the platter.  I feel for the first time that I am really here, sitting across a picnic blanket from Kathryn Janeway, and that sitting across from her on a picnic blanket on Trebus might not be that different from sitting across from her in her ready room, or at the dining table in her quarters on _Voyager_ , or at some alien banquet hall.  The conversation gets a little easier.  
  
I tell her about my time on Trebus, about Sekaya and Muluc, Xaman and Eme, about Ixhaan.  I warn her that they are all very excited to meet her.  But truthfully, I don’t want to talk about myself.  I want to hear about her.  I want to know how she has been since the debriefings, what she is thinking of doing with her career, whether she’s been pondering the same questions that I have about the past and the future.  But I don’t quite feel up to asking her these questions yet.  So she tells me about her mother and her sister.  She tells me about Phoebe’s two boys, Harrison and Lucas, twins, who are just a little younger than Xaman.  She fills me in on some of our crew - Harry’s promotion, Icheb’s acceptance to Starfleet Academy.  She’s brought a recent holo-snapshot of Miral, now a little over two months old, and I can’t believe how big she’s gotten in the four weeks since I’ve seen her.  
  
Before we know it, we hear the screaming voices of children as Xaman and Eme come racing down the hill, Sekaya close behind them.  The introductions go all around.  Eme clings shyly to her mother’s leg, but Xaman is outgoing and self-assured.  I see that Sekaya and Kathryn like each other immediately, and some of my nerves dissipate.    
  
Muluc arrives a little later, and we fire up the barbecue.  He and I cook while Sekaya ushers Kathryn into the cabin.  I’d die to know what they’re talking about in there, but I’m sure I never will.  After dinner, we start a bonfire down by the lake, and the kids roast marshmallows.  Xaman, who has been very well behaved all evening, can’t contain himself any longer.  “Kathryn,” he says - she has insisted that the kids call her Kathryn, “will you tell us about the Delta Quadrant?  Please?”  His mouth and hands are covered with sticky marshmallow as he reaches for another one to put on the end of his roasting pole.  
  
“What did we talk about, Xaman?” Sekaya admonishes.  “I’m sure Kathryn doesn’t want to spend her whole visit talking about the Delta Quadrant.”  
  
“No, it’s all right,” Janeway replies with a wave of her hand.  “My nephews, Harrison and Lucas, love to hear about the Delta Quadrant, too.  I’ve gotten lots of practice at telling stories.”  She winks at me across the bonfire.  I have rarely seen this side of Kathryn, and I have to admit, I’m enjoying it.  She starts to recount the story of how aliens entered Tom’s Captain Proton program and thought that the holodeck was our real world.  I watch Kathryn in the firelight, the way it glints off of her hair, the way the corners of her mouth lift up in a smile, the way her hands move as she narrates the story in detail.  
  
When Kathryn finishes the tale, Muluc tells his son it’s time for bed.  Eme is already asleep.  Sekaya says she’s tired and is going to turn in, too, and Kathryn and I are left alone by the fire.  I add some wood.  “I have a case of Antarian cider,” I offer.  “Care to join me?”  
  
“How could I pass up an offer like that?”  
  
I run up to the cabin for a bottle of cider and two glasses.  I fill them and pass one to Kathryn.  We clink glasses.  “Cheers.”  
  
We sit in silence for several moments, listening to the crackling of the fire and the muted sound of water lapping against the shore.  She breaks the silence, her voice soft and velvety.  “Your family is wonderful, Chakotay.”  
  
“I know.”  I smile.  “I’m lucky I get a second chance.”  
  
“I think we all got a second chance.  Coming back after so long, it almost feels like we were dead and then came back to life.”  
  
“That’s the second time today.”  
  
“Second time today for what?”  
  
“The second time today you put words to a feeling I’ve been unable to name for the past four weeks.”  I pause, taking a sip of my cider, and steal a glance at her face.  She looks pensive.  “Kathryn, why did you think I’d be so broken up over Seven ending things between us?  What did she tell you?”  
  
She seems surprised by the question.  The truth is, I’ve surprised myself a bit, asking her so bluntly.  I guess the honesty I’ve been practicing is becoming a habit.  She takes a deep breath, appearing to wrestle with a question of her own.  Finally, she says, “It wasn’t because of what Seven told me.”  
  
“Then what?”  She looks at the fire, her lips pressed tight together in a thin line as I think about the emphasis she used in the sentence, trying to puzzle out her meaning.  “It was because of something someone else told you.  Who?”  She doesn’t move or speak, but I’ve seen the haunted look in her eyes before.  I saw it when...  “The admiral.  It was because of something the admiral told you.”  Silently, she nods.  “What?  What did she tell you?”  We are sitting on the same log where Sekaya and I sat and talked on my first night here, and I move closer to her.  
  
“In her timeline, you and Seven were married.  Seven died in your arms.  She said she was never the same after that, and neither were you.”  
  
I have no idea what to say.  So many things fall into place - Seven’s unexpected change of heart in astrometrics, Kathryn’s sudden distance, “Mister Chakotay” - she hadn’t called me that in years - her reaction during our subspace chat the other day.  It all comes together in one shattering instant.  There is pain, confusion and fear in Kathryn’s eyes, and she’s making no attempt to hide her feelings.  My first instinct is what it has always been - to comfort her, to shield her, to protect her.  I place a hand on her shoulder and give it a squeeze.  “I’m sorry.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“I’m sorry you had to carry the burden of that knowledge alone.  Although, I think the admiral must have said something to Seven, too.”  
  
“Yes, she did.”  She leans into the pressure of my hand.  
  
“Kathryn, the admiral’s timeline is gone, now.  Everything is different.  Seven isn’t going to die.  And her breaking up with me certainly is not going to destroy me, okay?”  
  
One side of her mouth turns up in half a smile.  “Okay.”    
  
Simultaneously, we let out a breath.  I take my hand from her shoulder.  Some of the tension has eased between us.  I look down at our empty glasses.  “Now how about some more of that cider?”  She doesn’t refuse.  
  
Over the next two days, we settle into our friendship in a way that is both familiar and new.  It turns out my fears about Kathryn sharing a small cabin with my family were unfounded.  She gets along beautifully with Sekaya, and the children adore her.  By the second day, even Eme is jabbering away at her.  My worries about her boredom were equally groundless.  She reads, jogs and swims.  I think she loves the lake almost as much as I do, and she doesn’t mind the relaxed, spontaneous lifestyle, either.  She is content to spend hours alone, and equally happy to participate in group games.  She even starts teaching Xaman to play tennis using a couple makeshift rackets we managed to patch together.  I am reminded several times a day how much fun we actually have together; this is something else I had forgotten somewhere along the line.  The layers of walls, protocol, duty, self-imposed restrictions and self-control that we built up over the years slowly begin to come down, and I start to think that maybe our friendship grew from more than simple necessity, after all.    
  
“Chakotay, hand me the soap, will you?”  
  
Kathryn has been here for four days, and we’ve already managed to establish a morning ritual - a five kilometer run followed by a ‘bath’ in the lake.  The bathing suit she’s wearing today is black, a one piece suit with an open back that reveals an expanse of smooth, creamy skin, and a neckline that just barely skirts the tops of her breasts.  I have to admit, it’s a little distracting.  But I make myself focus on the task at hand and throw the soap to her.  “Catch.”  She catches it, and I rub some shampoo into my hair, then swim out into the bay to rinse it out.  As I swim back to shore, I notice Kathryn struggling to reach the middle of her back with the soap.  I pull myself up to my feet and go to her.  We stand near the dock, and the water laps at my thighs.  “Here, let me help.”  
  
“My arms just aren’t quite long enough,” she laughs, handing me the soap.  
  
I smooth it over her back and then place it on the dock.  I rub my hands over her warm, soft skin, creating a lather of bubbles.  Instinctively, my hands find the tension in the muscles along her spine and in her shoulders, and my fingers start to work to relieve it.  My fingers are at the base of her scalp, working through the tension there, when I hear her moan softly.  The instant I realize what I am doing, I freeze.  She turns around, and her eyes meet mine, questioning, but open, as if she is seeing a possibility she never saw before.  But this time, I am the one who backs away, breaking the moment.  “You better rinse off.”  
  
She cocks her head to one side, and I try to gauge whether she is surprised, disappointed or relieved.  She smiles, and lets the moment pass, undiscussed, as if it never happened.  “Yes, I better.”  And then she is gone, swimming out into the bay, leaving a trail of soapy bubbles in her wake.  
  
That night, Ixhaan invites us all for dinner at her home.  She is anxious to meet Kathryn and instantly adopts her as part of the family, just as she did with me.  I should not be surprised how ‘at home’ my former captain is with my family in a rustic village on a backwater planet, but I am.  I’ve forgotten that she can be as at home on her hands and knees in the dirt tending vegetables as she is commanding the bridge of a starship.  
  
Ixhaan has made a huge traditional meal - quinoa porridge, tamales, salsa, pozole, tortillas.  We are in the midst of eating when Ixhaan asks, “How long do you plan to stay on Trebus, Kathryn?”  
  
Kathryn looks at me, again a question in her eyes, and opens her mouth to answer, but before she can get a word out, Xaman says, “She’s not leaving.  She’s always going to stay here.”    
  
I nearly choke on my food, and my sister comes to my rescue.  “I don’t think so, Xaman.  Kathryn has a job to get back to at Starfleet.”  
  
My nephew looks genuinely confused, and he turns his big, dark eyes on Kathryn.  “But aren’t you going to stay here and be our _tilla_?”  
  
I can feel the warmth in my cheeks, and I know my face must be completely red.  Eme smiles from her booster seat and repeats, “ _Tilla_.”  I am too embarrassed to look at Kathryn.  I am too embarrassed to look at anyone, so I stare at my plate, trying to formulate an appropriate response.  
  
Again, my sister saves me.  “Kathryn is like a part of our family, isn’t she, Xaman?”  He nods eagerly.  “Well then maybe you should ask her if she’d like to be your honorary aunt.”  
  
“Ho-no-ra-ry?”  My nephew tries out the word.  
  
“Yes,” my sister continues.  “She would be your aunt because she wants to be, and because you want her to be, and because she’s like a member of our family.  But you have to understand, Xaman, that Kathryn’s not a part of our family.  She has her own family, back on Earth.”  
  
My nephew considers this, and I wonder if he really understands what Sekaya is saying.  But he seems to, because he turns to Kathryn and says, “Would you like to be our ho-no-ra-ry aunt?”  
  
Kathryn glances at me, as if seeking my permission.  I’m sure I’m still red in the face, but I shrug.  It’s okay with me, I suppose.  Then she turns back to Xaman.  “I am honored that you want me to be part of your family, Xaman.  Of course I accept.”  
  
Xaman and Eme spend the rest of the meal talking about all the things they want to do with their new aunt, and Ixhaan’s question goes unanswered.  I am silent for most of the meal, even though my sister tries several times to involve me in the conversation.  It’s not intentional, but I find myself giving short, abrupt answers, and soon, Sekaya leaves me alone.  After dinner, Kathryn helps my sister clean up the kitchen while Ixhaan plays with the children.  
  
I find myself alone on the porch, sitting in one of Ixhaan’s old rocking chairs.  I hear the screen door open and expect to see my sister, but instead, it’s her husband.  “Mind if I join you?” he asks.  
  
“Go ahead.”  
  
He hands me a cold beer and sits down on a big wooden chest next to the rocking chair.  We drink in silence for a few moments before he says, “I’m sorry for Xaman’s comment at dinner.”  
  
“He was just being a kid.”  
  
Muluc chuckles.  “He was being Xaman.  We should have named him _nuuk chi_.”  
  
I laugh.  _Nuuk chi._   Big mouth.  “I put my foot in my mouth plenty of times myself.  It’s all right.  It just caught me off guard, and I was afraid it would make Kathryn uncomfortable.”  
  
“I thought she handled it pretty gracefully.”  
  
“Yeah, she did.”    
  
“So what’s with the two of you, anyway?”  
  
I take a long sip of my beer.  “Good question.”  
  
“It seems like you must have gotten pretty close out there, working side by side like that for seven years.”  
  
“We did.  But there were some lines we never crossed, and our friendship is built on that.  I think it’s too late to change the parameters now.”  
  
“Well, would you want to, if you had the option?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  I don’t tell my brother-in-law that I’m scared of what would happen if we did - that we might lose everything - but I do say, “We had some pretty spectacular fights over the years.”  
  
“You made it through them.  Obviously.  Or else she wouldn’t be here now.”  
  
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”  
  
Muluc glances into the house to make sure no one is eavesdropping on our conversation and leans in closer to me.  “She’s a babe, Chakotay.  I mean, she’s not my type, but I can appreciate beauty when I see it.”  
  
Of its own accord, my body remembers the feeling of her soft skin under my hands as I washed her back that morning.  “I can’t argue with you there.  It’s funny, I used to think about her all the time, a long time ago, in the early years.  We spent six weeks alone on a planet once, just the two of us.  Believe me, that fueled my fantasies for years.”  
  
“When did you stop thinking about her?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  I’ve never thought about this before, and I try to pinpoint a moment in my mind, but I can’t.  After Ransom maybe?  After Quarra?  “When I realized they were just fantasies, and always would be - fantasies fueled by something that might have happened once but never did - and never could.  That was when I knew I had to stop thinking about her.”  I’m surprised how easily the words come.  I’ve never talked about this with anyone, not even Sekaya, but somehow, my brother-in-law makes conversation easy.  I don’t feel like he’s judging me or like he has an opinion about what I should do.  I know what my sister thinks I should do, what she thinks would be good for me, and all our conversations are clouded by that prejudice.  But Muluc just listens.  He just asks.  We just talk, man to man, brother to brother.  My brother has been gone for a long time, and even when he was alive, we didn’t speak this way.  I realize that Muluc, too, lost his brother, and probably values our new relationship as much as I do.  “But this morning, down by the lake, I just found myself thinking, damn, she’s hot.”  
  
Muluc nods appreciatively.  “If you weren’t thinking that, brother, there’d be something wrong with you.”  
  
I study my brother-in-law for a moment.  I’ve come to see over the past few weeks that he is a good man.  Honest, kind, caring - just the type of guy I would want to see with my sister.  They have made a beautiful family and a good life together.  They are not the only people I have witnessed doing this; Tom and B’Elanna have done the same.  But to me, it seems impossible.  I know that people can do it, but it’s something I have never been successful at.  After disasters like Seven and Seska, how can I trust my own taste in women?  How can I trust that I could be as good a man, as a good a husband, as good a father, as my brother-in-law is, after all the things I’ve seen and done?  I’ve made so many choices in my life that I would never want my own son or daughter to emulate.  “How do you do it?” I ask softly.  
  
“Do what?”  
  
“You were in the Maquis.  You’ve seen horrible things.  You’ve killed people.  You’ve broken the law.  How do you explain that to your son?”  
  
Muluc exhales loudly.  “I haven’t, so far.  When he gets old enough to understand, I’ll tell him.”  
  
“What if he doesn’t understand?”  
  
“You mean, what if he thinks I’m a murderer and a criminal?”  I nod.  “Well, from a certain point of view, he’d be right.  But I’d like to think he’s my son, and when the time comes, he’ll understand.”  I think about my own relationship with my father, and how little we understood each other until it was too late.  “But even if he doesn’t, he’s my son, and I’ll always love him.”  Muluc pauses and looks at me closely.  “It’s hard to open up after the things we’ve seen.  I know you and I have led very different lives, but we’ve both experienced betrayal.  We’ve both lost many, many people we loved - family and friends.  It’s hard, after that, to trust someone with your heart.  It’s hard to trust yourself.  It’s hard to let yourself go, to surrender yourself to love, because you think if you let yourself feel love, you’ll feel hatred and anger, too.  You’re afraid that if you let yourself feel all the way, if you give up whatever control you’ve established, you’re opening yourself up to pain, to betrayal, to losing someone you love again.”  
  
We sit in silence for a long time as I allow his words to digest.  “How did you do it?” I finally ask.  “How did you open up to those feelings again?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he replies honestly.  “I just did.  I still struggle with it on a daily basis, but Sekaya helps me.  She doesn’t give me a choice.  With her, I always feel something.  Even if its frustration, it’s something.”  
  
At that moment, the screen door swings open.  “Am I interrupting?”  It’s my sister.  
  
“Nope.”  Muluc wraps an arm around her and pulls her close to him, resting his head on her stomach.    
  
“We should get going,” Sekaya says, running one hand through her husband’s hair.  “The kids should have been in bed an hour ago.”  
  
I drain the last of my beer and stand up.  We all bid Ixhaan a good night and thank her for the wonderful meal.  Sekaya and her family head back to their home in town for the night, and Kathryn and I decide to walk back to the cabin.  It’s a nice night - cool but not too chilly, and the air smells fresh and clean.  In a familiar gesture, she slips her arm through mine as we walk, and a comfortable silence stretches between us as we take in the calm, quiet evening.  
  
She is the first one to speak.  “Chakotay, about dinner tonight... I don’t want you to feel like I have any expectations about us.  I love our friendship, and I’m very grateful for it.  I came here to see you, to see my friend.  No ulterior motives.”  
  
“I love our friendship, too, Kathryn.”  I pause.  “But I think my family has other ideas.”  
  
She laughs good-naturedly.  “Don’t worry about it, Chakotay.  I was flattered by what Xaman said.”  
  
“Don’t get me wrong.  You’re a beautiful woman, and an amazing person.  Maybe if we had met at a different time, under other circumstances...”  
  
“It’s all right, Chakotay,” she says softly.  “I cherish our friendship.  That’s enough for me.”  
  
“I just don’t think I can be what you need, Kathryn.”  
  
Her voice is barely more than a whisper, and I can’t tell if I’m meant to hear her when she replies, “How do you know what I need?”  
  
I don’t know how to answer her question, or if she even meant for me to hear it, so I say nothing, and we walk on in silence.  She slips her arm out of mine and lets her hands swing freely at her sides.  “The _Enterprise_ will be back in a few days.  I should send Captain Picard a subspace message tomorrow, see if they can bring me back to Earth.”  
  
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”  
  
“Thank you.  I appreciate that, Chakotay, but I really should be getting back to my own family.  And I need to start putting some serious thought into what I’m going to do after the next two months are up.”  
  
“What are your options?”  
  
“There’s been a lot of talk about the admiralty.  I need to decide whether that’s something I want to pursue.”  
  
“Oh.  Congratulations, Kathryn.  That’s wonderful.”  
  
She offers me a lopsided smile.  “Thanks.”  She asks me what I think I will do when my leave is expired; I tell her I haven’t thought about it much yet.  I need to look into my options.  She asks if I would like her to make some inquiries, and I tell her I’d appreciate that.  We slip easily back into business mode, and when we arrive at the cabin, we say goodnight and retreat to our separate spaces - she to her room, and me to my tent.  But I can’t sleep, and when I finally do, my dreams are plagued by Cardassians, burning Treban villages and the ghosts of my long-dead family.


	3. Yaakuntik

**PART THREE**

* * *

  
_Yaakuntik_  


* * *

  
The next afternoon, Kathryn walks into town to go to the communications station and send a message to the _Enterprise_.  Sekaya and the kids are playing down by the lake, and Kathryn insists that I stay and spend time with my family.  She has walked into town with me several times, and I know she knows the way, but I still offer to accompany her.  No, she says.  She’ll be fine.  She seems a bit standoffish, and I wonder why, but I figure she needs some space, and I let her go.  
  
The afternoon is beautiful.  A breeze blows across the lake, creating little white caps.  Xaman sits in an inner tube tied to the dock, shouting in delight as the waves bounce him up and down.  Eme plays closer to the shore, and I help her build a sand castle while Sekaya watches Xaman.  It’s almost five o’clock when I look up and realize that the gentle breeze that has kept us from getting too hot all afternoon is blowing dark clouds across the horizon.  
  
“Time to come in, Xaman,” my sister calls.  
  
“But Na!”  
  
“No arguing.  It looks like it might storm.  You know it’s not safe to be out on the lake if it storms.”  Begrudgingly, my nephew swims to shore and then pulls the inner tube up onto the dock and secures it with a rope so it won’t blow away.  By the time we’ve made it into the house, the rain is coming down in big, thick drops.  I look anxiously at the clock.  Kathryn should have made it into town and delivered her message by now.  If there was no line at the communications station, and if she walked quickly, she would be nearly back to the cabin by now, I think.  If not...  
  
My sister seems to read my mind.  “Maybe she saw the bad weather moving in and decided to stay in town.”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“Muluc will be here soon.  Maybe she caught a ride with him.”  
  
Muluc arrives at the cabin after closing his shop for the day.  He has a small ATV that he uses to get around, but the top of it is not covered, and he’s sopping wet when he comes in the door.  “Looks like a real storm’s moving in,” he says as he takes off his coat and shoes and leaves them in the entryway.    
  
“Did you see Kathryn in town?” Sekaya asks.  
  
Muluc looks from her to me, and concern crosses his features.  “No, did she go in today?”  
  
“She went in to send a subspace communique,” I explain.  “She left a few hours ago.  I think she should have been back by now.”  
  
“I can comm Alom down at the communications station, and see if she decided to wait it out there.”  
  
“Yeah.  That might be a good idea.”  
  
Muluc picks up his mobile communicator, the old style, flip-open type.  Most families on Trebus have just one.  He dials the code for the communications station and his friend Alom answers immediately.  “Did you see our friend, Kathryn Janeway, down there today?”  
  
“ _He’le_ , Muluc.  She was here, but she left a couple hours ago.  Just before the rain started, I think.  I asked her if she wanted to stay here, wait it out.  She said a little rain never hurt anyone, and she’d make it back to your cabin before it got too bad.”  
  
“Okay, Alom.  Thanks.”  
  
“She hasn’t made it home?”  
  
“No, but I’m sure we’ll see her soon.  Thanks for your help.  Muluc out.”  
  
As if on cue, a clap of thunder rings out through the sky.  Eme, who has been playing in the bedroom, begins to wail, and Sekaya quickly goes to comfort her.  Xaman emerges from the bedroom behind them, trying awfully hard to be brave.  “It’s just a storm, Eme,” he says, rubbing his sister’s back while his mom holds her.  “It’s okay.”  But I can tell that he is nearly as scared of the storm as she is.  
  
I nod to Muluc, silently indicating to him that he should join me on the other side of the room, away from the children.  Sekaya picks up on my silent cue, and does her best to distract Xaman and Eme while Muluc and I talk in hushed tones.  “What do you think?” I ask.  
  
“You know Kathryn better than I do.  What do you think she would do if she got caught out in a storm?”  
  
My mind flashes back about six years, to another storm on another planet, another moment of fear and uncertainty.  “I think she’d do her best to get back here.  If for some reason she thought she couldn’t, she’d try and find shelter.  She’s a pretty resourceful woman.”  Even though my words are confident, I can’t hide the worry in my voice.  
  
“If she’s stuck somewhere in the woods, we have to find her,” Muluc replies.  “Those trees are very vulnerable to lightning strikes.  It happens almost every time there’s a storm.  Not only that, but there are some pretty fierce animals out there.  Usually they keep to themselves, but if they’re scared and skittish, like they get in the thunder, they might attack anything that moves.”  
  
“Damn it!” I exclaim.  “I wish she had her communicator, but neither of us have worn them since she got here.”  
  
“The storm would probably put up too much interference to use it anyway.  We’ll have to go out on foot.”  
  
A lightning bolt sizzles through the atmosphere, followed by another crack of thunder.  I hear the rain pelting down on the cabin roof as my brother-in-law’s words sink in, and a cold fear settles in the pit of my stomach.  Lightning, predatory animals...  Why did I let her go alone?  
  
Muluc speaks softly to Sekaya and I see her glance in my direction, a worried expression on her face, but she nods, assenting to his plan.  She helps him find appropriate rain gear for both of us.  All these years, Sekaya has kept a raincoat of my father’s in the closet.  She pulls it out for me and I put it on, feeling strange wearing my father’s coat when he’s been gone for so many years.  Muluc puts on his own rain gear and hands me a flashlight and a phaser.  “We should split up,” I say.  “We’ll have a better chance of finding her quickly.”  
  
“Agreed.”  
  
“Be safe,” Sekaya warns us.  “If the storm gets much worse, come back, even if you haven’t found her.”  Muluc nods, but my sister knows from my steely expression that I won’t be coming back until I find Kathryn, alive and well or...  I stop the thought.  I will find her and she will be fine.    
  
Sekaya kisses her husband and hugs me.  Muluc kisses the children and tells them to be brave and look out for their mother, and that we’ll be back soon.  “This cabin’s weathered many a storm,” he assures me as we step out into the howling wind.  “Sekaya and the kids will be fine.”  We agree on separate paths and set off into the darkness.  It is not long before the cabin lights have disappeared in the deluge.    
  
The wind wails, and the thunder crashes so loudly I can feel the vibrations resonate through my entire body.  I try to imagine I am Kathryn, alone in the woods, headed towards the cabin, when it starts to rain.  I might take a route other than the one I knew, I realize, if I thought it might be a shortcut.  I plan my search pattern with this in mind, trying to picture the path she might have taken, trying to imagine what she was thinking.  “Kathryn!” I scream into the woods.  “Kathryn!”  Even if she is capable of yelling back, I don’t know if I would be able to hear her over the racket of the storm.  
  
I can’t stop the fear from rising in my gut.  In the cabin, with Muluc and Sekaya standing nearby, I could keep my emotions under control, but now, alone, amidst the roaring of the storm, I cannot stem the terror I feel.  It courses through my body like a flood, spurring me on.  I have to find her.  “Kathryn!”    
  
Lightning crackles through the sky and I smell smoke.  It has hit a nearby tree, and I hear a loud crack as the tree splits in half and hits the ground.  The rain pours down in heavy drops.  The parts of my pants not covered by the coat and boots are soaked through, and the rain is beginning to penetrate even my heavy rain gear.  I push the hood back so I can hear better.  “Kathryn!”  My flashlight can barely penetrate the darkness and the heavy rain, and I can hardly see more than two meters in front of me.  My eyes sting, and I realize that it is not only the rain, but rising tears that blur my vision.  I stumble, tripping over a fallen tree branch, and I have to haul myself back to my feet again.  That’s when I think I see something - a large, leafy tree branch propped up against a big, old tree trunk at an unnatural angle.  It doesn’t look like it could have fallen there naturally, but like it was put there on purpose.  I shine my light directly at the branch, and I catch a glimpse of white skin.  “Kathryn!”  I am running, then, the few steps that it takes for me to reach the stump.  I pull away the large branch, and there is Kathryn, holding her knees to her chest, shivering.  I kneel down in front of her.  “Kathryn, are you all right?”  
  
“Chakotay?”    
  
“Yes.  Yes, it’s me.  Are you okay?”  
  
“I tripped.  I think I twisted my ankle.”  Her teeth are chattering.  “I was trying to get back before the s-s-storm.  I thought I could t-t-take a shortcut.”  
  
“You’re in shock.”  Without giving it a second thought, I am taking off my father’s raincoat and wrapping it around her.  I hoist her onto her feet and drape her arm over my shoulder, but we only walk a few steps before I realize that the wind and her twisted ankle are going to make walking like this too difficult.  I scoop her up into my arms and cradle her against me; the fact that she doesn’t protest only proves to me that she’s really in bad shape.  I am practically running back to the cabin, moving as fast as I can through the storm with Kathryn in my arms.  The wind is picking up again.  The storm is getting worse, and I hope Muluc followed his wife’s advice and returned to the cabin.  
  
When I reach the front door, I bang on it with my foot.  “Let me in!”  
  
Muluc opens the door, his hair and pants wet.  “Thank the spirits,” he breathes.  “I just walked in a few minutes ago.  We were praying that you found her.”  
  
“She’s hurt.  Maybe hypothermic.”  
  
“Chakotay.”  Kathryn’s voice is slurred.  “Chakotay, where am I?”  
  
“It’s okay, Kathryn.  You’re safe.  We’re home now, and you’re safe.”  
  
“I’m c-c-cold.”  
  
Sekaya is hot on Muluc’s heels.  “Shh,” she tells me.  “I don’t want to wake the children.  Put Kathryn in her room.”  
  
I bring her into the bedroom and unwrap the heavy raincoat from around her shoulders.  Her lips are blue, and her teeth are chattering, but Sekaya is way ahead of me.  “Chakotay, get out of those wet clothes.  I’ll take care of Kathryn.”  
  
“But...” I start to argue, and my sister cuts me off.  
  
“You won’t be any use to her or to me if you catch your death.  Go change.”  
  
“My clothes are down in the tent.”  
  
“No, they’re not.  I brought some of them up here.  They’re in our room.  Now hurry up, and don’t wake the children.”    
  
My sister’s tone makes it impossible to argue, and I follow her instructions, but everything is a blur.  I strip off my soaking wet clothes and pull on the first thing of mine that I see - a pair of grey trousers and a black shirt that I yank over my head.  I slip soft moccasins onto my feet and throw my sopping clothes over the back of a chair, trying to be mindful of my sister’s instructions to be quiet when there’s only one thing on my mind - Kathryn.  
  
By the time I rush back into Kathryn’s room, my sister has managed to get her out of her wet clothes and has helped her change into a heather grey sweat suit.  Whether it belongs to Kathryn or my sister, I don’t know.  Sekaya is tucking Kathryn under the covers, but Janeway is fighting my sister and seems confused.  “No, wait!” she protests.  “I have to find Chakotay.”  
  
“I’m right here, Kathryn.”  
  
“No,” she argues, “you’re not Chakotay.  You’re Teero.  Where’s Chakotay?”  
  
Her words send a sharp pain through my soul, and I take my sister’s place, sitting down on the edge of the bed and taking Kathryn’s shoulders in my hands.  Sekaya quietly leaves the room.  “Kathryn, look at me.  Look at me.”  Even through the soft material of the sweat suit, her skin is cold to my touch, and I know hypothermia can cause mild confusion.  I shake her gently, and it seems to bring her back to reality.  
  
“Chakotay?”  
  
“Yes, I’m right here.  We need to get you warm, Kathryn, okay?”    
  
“Okay.”  
  
I help her get under the blankets, mindful of her injured ankle, and run my hands down the length of her arms.  “How’s that?”  
  
“B-b-better.”  
  
“Still cold?”  I ask.  Kathryn nods, and I do the only thing I can think of.  I climb up onto the bed next to her, outside of the covers, and surround her body with mine.  I let my own warmth seep through the layers of blankets and clothing that separate us, and I gently rub my hands up and down her arms and the length of her back.  After a few minutes, she sighs contentedly, and her eyes begin to close with fatigue.  
  
My sister knocks gently on the still open door.  “Can I come in?”  
  
I extricate myself slowly from Kathryn’s body and sit on the bed beside her.  “Sure.”  
  
“I made some broth.  See if you can get her to drink this.  It will help her warm up.”  
  
“Thanks, _iits’in_.”  I smile gratefully at my sister, then try to rouse Kathryn.  “Hey,” I say gently, rubbing her arms, “you awake?”  She makes a noncommittal sound that I choose to interpret as an affirmative.  “Come on, Kathryn.  Sit up and have some soup.”  I manage to get her to sit, and as I prop her back up against some pillows, she gasps.  “What’s wrong?”  
  
“My ankle.  Hurts.”  
  
I look to my sister.  With the storm raging outside, there’s no way to get a doctor out here tonight.  “We have an analgesic in the med kit,” Sekaya says.  “It will dull the pain until we can get you to a medic tomorrow.”  
  
Kathryn nods, and I see that she is beginning to come back to herself.  I take the steaming bowl of broth from my sister, and Sekaya leaves us alone again.  I lift a spoonful of the hot liquid to Kathryn’s lips.  She swallows it, then reaches for the bowl.  “I can feed myself, thank you, Commander.”  
  
Then I laugh out loud.  It is so good to hear her command tone; I never thought I would be so happy to hear her address me by my rank, but at this moment, it’s the best thing she could have said.  
  
“What?  What are you laughing at?”  
  
“Nothing.”  I exhale a long, slow sigh of relief.  “I’m just happy you’re okay.  I was a little worried for a few minutes there.”  
  
“I’m fine, Chakotay.”  I reach out to brush her hair out of her face, and I see that she is surprised by my gesture of tenderness.  She spoons up some more of the broth, but I can see her eyelids drooping from exhaustion.  
  
“Here, let me take that,” I say, reaching for the broth.  She’s managed about half of it, and when I take the bowl from her, her skin is no longer icy.  Her lips have returned to their normal color, and some pink is returning to her cheeks.  “You need to rest.”  
  
She nods and settles back against the pillows.  I stand to bring the bowl back into the kitchen, but her voice stops me.  “Don’t go yet.”  
  
“I’ll be right back.  I’m just going to put this in the kitchen and talk to Sekaya for a minute, okay?”  She nods, weakly.  I bring the bowl back into the kitchen where Sekaya and Muluc are sitting at the table, clasping each other’s hands.  “She’s going to be fine,” I assure them.  “A mild case of hypothermia, I think.  Maybe a sprained ankle.  It’s nothing serious.”  
  
Sekaya stands and goes to the cabinet where she keeps the med kit.  “It’s a good thing you found her when you did.  Did she tell you what happened?”  
  
“She wasn’t very coherent when I found her.  I think she tried to take a shortcut after it started raining, and tripped and twisted her ankle.”  
  
“Here’s a hypospray with an analgesic.  This should dull the pain for about twelve hours.”  Sekaya pauses and listens outside.  It sounds like the storm is finally beginning to die down.  “We’ll be able to get a medic out here tomorrow without any trouble.”  She hands me the hypo and looks back at her husband.  “We’re going to bed.  You can take some blankets and a sleeping bag out of the closet and sleep on the floor if you’d like, Chakotay.  I’m sorry we don’t have another bed.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it.  I’ll be fine.”  I pause.  “Thank you.  Thank you both for everything tonight.”  
  
“That’s what family is for,” Muluc says as he pats me on the shoulder and heads for the bedroom.  My sister hugs me and wishes me goodnight.  I turn off the lights in the kitchen and return to Kathryn’s room.  My own heart rate is finally returning to normal, and the adrenaline that has been coursing through me since I left the cabin in the storm is beginning to dissipate.  At first, I think she has fallen asleep, and I stand in the doorway, watching the slow rise and fall of the blankets that indicates her steady breathing.  
  
But she seems to sense my presence, because she turns towards the door.  “I thought you’d gone.”  
  
“I told you I’d come back.”  I extend the hypospray to her.  “An analgesic for your ankle.”  She tilts her head to expose her neck, and I press the hypo against her skin and release its contents with a hiss.  
  
“Thank you.”  She looks at me, only her head protruding from the pile of blankets on the bed.  “That’s the second time you’ve had to come and find me in the middle of a storm.”  
  
I’m surprised she’s coherent enough to make the connection and even more surprised her willingness to bring it up.  “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this,” I reply, “but my name is derived from an ancient god of storms.”  I grin down at her.  
  
“Well, that explains it, then,” she says, as if it really does.  
  
“You need to get some rest.  Let me tuck you in.”  
  
Her eyes are beginning to close already, and I can’t help but find her slightly incoherent sleepiness endearing.  She tries to protest.  “I’m... fine.. Cha.. kotay.”  
  
“Mmhmm.”  I don’t argue with her.  I simply help her get comfortable and arrange the pillows around her small frame, then pull the blankets up around her chin.  “Goodnight, Kathryn,” I whisper.  “Sleep well.”  I lean over and place a kiss on her forehead, then turn out the lights and exit the room.  
  
I don’t think I can sleep, so I make myself some tea and sit at the kitchen table, listening as the wind becomes progressively softer, and the rain lightens, and finally stops completely.  I keep replaying the evening in my mind - the fear I felt when I thought I might lose her, the relief at knowing she was going to be okay.  Something Muluc said to me the other night keeps coming back to me - when he said that with Sekaya, he always feels something, even if it is frustration or anger - that with her, he has no choice.  My sister’s words echo in my head, too.  _“Part of you is on Trebus, but part of you has never been here.  Even when we were children, your heart was in the stars.  That’s where you belong.  Maybe Kathryn is part of that.”_   In the early hours of the morning, I decide to be honest, truly honest with myself.  Maybe I will find the courage to be honest with Kathryn, too.  Maybe I will find the strength I need to share my heart and my soul again, truly, deeply and fully.  
  
The storm has passed, and the sun is about to rise in a blaze of red and gold.  Silently, I leave the cabin and go down to the water’s edge.  Like I did that first night I was here, I strip down to nothing.  The storm has churned up the water and left it cold, but in the early morning calm, the lake is tranquil.  I look down and see my own reflection - the tattoo that has come to mean so much to me, my dark eyes that mirror my sister’s and my niece and nephew’s, the touch of grey in my hair.  Then I plunge my whole body into the water, and when I come up for air, for the first time in a long time, I feel whole.    
  
I dress and go back into the house.  The dawn is close at hand, but the sun is still only a glimmer of golden fire on the horizon.  Noiselessly, I make my way into the doorway and peer into Kathryn’s room.  The door is open a crack, and I slide into the room without making a sound.  She is sleeping peacefully, her breathing normal.  Her auburn hair is splayed across the pillow and her expression is neutral.  I stand there watching her for a long time and feel a wave of love wash over me.  I have no choice; she always makes me feel something.  I have found what I lost.  
  
Morning comes, and my family gradually awakens.  The children are anxious to see Kathryn and know she’s all right.  Xaman brings her coffee in bed, which delights her, and Eme entertains her by putting on a show with her dolls.  Muluc summons a medic, and he shows up promptly to heal Kathryn’s ankle and double check that there is no other damage to her system.  She’s fine, and by lunch time, she’s walking around the cabin with no problem.  We haven’t had a moment alone because my entire family is fussing over her, and although I feel like I discovered something last night, I don’t know how to tell her, or if she will even welcome hearing it.  
  
It is evening, and I am sitting on the dock, alone, when I feel her presence behind me.  I turn my head to see her standing at the end of the dock, wearing a pale yellow sundress that buttons all the way up the front.  Her hair tumbles loosely over her shoulders, and her feet are bare.  “Join me,” I offer, patting the wooden slats beside me.  She does.    
  
“Sekaya said to tell you they’d be spending the night in town.  I guess we have the place to ourselves.”  
  
I chuckle.  “Not so subtle, are they?”  
  
“They just want you to be happy, Chakotay.”  
  
I look into her bright blue eyes, and I smile, feeling a rush of joy surge through me.  She smiles back, but the question remains in her eyes.  I need to tell her, but I don’t know where to begin.  _Haahil_.  Truth.  She has always deserved the truth, this incredible woman beside me - this woman with whom I have shared so much, and yet so little, of my life.  “When we realized you were missing last night, I was scared.”  She watches me, allowing me to continue, and doesn’t say anything.  “I was terrified, actually.  I was running through the woods, screaming your name.  I couldn’t even let myself think about what I would do if we didn’t find you.”  I pause, take a deep breath.  “I don’t want to live without you, Kathryn.”  She opens her mouth to speak, but I hold up a hand to stop her.  “Let me finish.  When I came here, I wasn’t sure who I was or where I belonged.  I lost... so much in the Delta Quadrant.  We all did.  We gained something we never could have imagined, but we lost something in the process, too - you and I especially.  When I invited you to join me here, I wasn’t sure I knew who you were anymore.  I thought that anything more than friendship between us was impossible; I convinced myself of that a long time ago.”  
  
“So did I,” she says softly.  “But anything is possible... isn’t it?”  
  
“I hope so,” I answer.  She gives me a soft smile and holds up her left hand.  I interlace my fingers with hers.  “I was afraid, before you came, that I’d discover that our friendship was nothing more than convenience - two people who had no one else to turn to, seventy thousand light years from home.  But seeing you here, being with you here, I’ve been reminded of so many things I had forgotten, or ignored over the years.  You’re beautiful, Kathryn.  So beautiful.  You make me laugh, and I love that I can make you laugh.  I had forgotten how much fun we have together.  I had started to believe that I was too damaged by the things that had happened to me, that I’d been betrayed too many times, made too many mistakes.  I thought that we had been through too much together, we’d spent too much time putting our own feelings last, that we wouldn’t be able to change our relationship.  But last night I realized that I can’t deny how I feel for you.  I can’t, and I don’t want to.  I want you in my life, as deeply, as truly and as often as possible.”  
  
She squeezes my hand.  “I feel the same way.  I thought I’d be glad to spend some time away from everyone after seven years in close quarters.  I thought I needed space, but it didn’t take me long to realize how much I missed everyone, especially you.  It’s one of the reasons I came here.”  It’s her turn to take a deep breath.  “I came with my mind open to options that had never seemed possible before.  Despite what I said last night, I had hoped that you might be open to those possibilities, too.  I know you were at one time.  I didn’t lie to you - I do cherish our friendship, and it is enough for me - but I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t hoped we might be able to explore something more.”  
  
I reach up with my free hand to cup her face.  Her skin is so soft, and her eyes widen but do not leave mine.  My senses are heightened, and I hear the warble of birds in the trees and the lapping of water against the shore.  I breathe in the sweet smelling air and imprint on my memory the way Kathryn’s skin glows in the fading sunlight, the way her eyes are big with unshed tears.  I feel as though the time passes in slow motion as I move my face closer to hers, holding eye contact until the closeness makes it impossible.  Then I can smell her scent - a hint of lavender and roses, coffee, and Kathryn - and our lips meet.  Her lips are soft and supple as they move against mine, and my whole body is electrified by the kiss.  My tongue darts out to taste her, and she parts her lips.  Then I feel her tongue seeking entrance to my mouth, dancing with mine, and I am tasting her, smelling her, reveling in her.  
  
When we can no longer breathe, I break the kiss.  I rest my forehead against hers, one hand still cupping her cheek, my other hand still entwined with hers.  We are both breathing hard.  My hand slides from her cheek down her arm and comes to rest on the wood of the dock.  She pulls back slightly and looks into my eyes, and we breathe at the same time, “I love you.”  Then, together, we burst out laughing - not with humor, but with joy.  Pure, unadulterated joy.  _Kiimak ool._  
  
And then, I am pushing her back onto the dock, covering her body with mine.  I feel the soft flesh of her breasts against my chest, the heat between her legs pressing into my thigh.  My hands are tangled in her hair and my tongue is exploring her mouth, slowly, savoring every moment, every taste.  I want to discover every inch of her body, to sample every bit of soft, white skin.  My lips trail over her cheeks, and I plant butterfly kisses on her eyes.  I find the indent just below her left ear and nip at it gently.  She gasps, and her body arcs up into mine, accenting the feel of my own hardness swelling between us.  Her hands stroke down my back and over my buttocks, pulling me further into her, and it is my turn to gasp.  My hand finds her breast, and I can feel her hard nipple through the material of her cotton dress.  I roll it between my fingers and she tosses her head back in ecstasy.  “Oh!”  I don’t know if the exclamation is hers or mine, or both - a sensation shared between us, only possible because we are both present in this moment.  
  
Her hand is caressing me through my pants, and now I know the moan that escapes is mine, but I reach down and still her ministrations.  “Kathryn,” I pant, “hang on.”  I meet her eyes, and she looks disappointed, but I kiss the tip of her nose and reassure her, “I was just going to suggest that we move to the bedroom.”  
  
She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls my head down to hers for a long kiss, after which she releases me.  “Good idea.”  
  
I get to my feet quickly and extend my hand to help her up.  Then, to her shock, I lift her in my arms and carry her into the house, peppering kisses over her cheeks and lips as we walk.  I kick the cabin door open, and close it again behind us with my foot.  Her lack of subtlety notwithstanding, I’m suddenly extremely grateful to my sister for her foresight in having left us alone tonight.    
  
I lay Kathryn down on the bed - the bed that I built for her - and set myself to opening the buttons that fasten the front of her dress.  One button at a time, I uncover her skin and her lacy periwinkle blue bra and panties.  I kiss my way down her body, savoring every moment.  My fingers feather over the lacy material of her bra, and I feel the weight of her breasts in my hands as my mouth travels lower.  
  
Hands, mouths, fingers, skin, hips - gradually, we discover each other, body and soul.  We find pleasure in each other’s pleasure.  My entire body shudders as my fingers find her wet heat, and I see the joy she takes in my groan of bliss when she kneels before me and takes me into her mouth.  It is a journey of cries and moans, heat and wetness, hard muscles and soft skin.  Finally, I am above her, poised at her entrance.  I feel the heat radiating from her, her slick moisture coating my hard length as I slowly lower myself, sinking deeper and deeper into her eyes, into her body, into her soul.  “Kathryn.”  I gasp her name as we join completely for the first time.  
  
“Chakotay.”  
  
This is the most perfect sensation I have ever felt, and I can see from the euphoria on her face that her experience is as powerful as mine.  I am overwhelmed with emotion as I move within her.  Our eyes are locked together, mirroring our bodies and our souls.  We have become part of each other, and this final act is a celebration of a connection that runs far deeper than our physical bodies.  
  
Our tempo increases, and her moans of pleasure become louder.  I let myself feel everything; I hold nothing back, and her cries escalate as our mutual ecstasy mounts.  Her eyes never leave mine as she calls out and her entire being tenses.  Then I am emptying myself into her body - emptying myself and filling myself at the same time, clutching her shoulders, shouting her name.  
  
After, we whisper words of love and devotion.  We kiss and touch, comforting, reassuring, tender.  I hold her, relishing the feel of her warm, soft body against mine.  I never, ever want to let her go.  _Yaakun_.  Love.  _Yaakuntik_.  Beloved.  I whisper these words to her, whisper their meaning.  She whispers back, words of adoration, faithfulness.  _Laylie_.  Always.  
  
Together, we find sleep.  We let the darkness claim us for a few hours, then wake and make love again.  Afterwards, we realize we are hungry.  We went to bed the first time before the sunset, and now it is two o’clock in the morning.  We get up.  I pull on some loose pajama pants, and Kathryn wears one of my long, button-down shirts.  It barely covers her buttocks, and I watch her walk around the kitchen without disguising my appreciation of her assets.  She slaps my cheek lightly, teasing, and accuses me of being a dirty old man.  Then I grab her and tickle her until she is screaming for mercy, and I silence her with big, wet, open-mouthed kisses.  I am tempted to take her again, right then, across the kitchen table, but I’m not sure I have the stamina for that, and I doubt my sister would appreciate it.  So I let her go and fix us some toast and tea.  
  
We sit at the kitchen table talking until the wee hours of the morning.  We talk about _Voyager_ \- about Quarra and Teero and New Earth.  She talks about what she has felt and been through since our return home, trying to find her place in a world she barely remembers and doesn’t feel part of anymore.  I tell her everything I’ve been contemplating since I came to Trebus - my experiences during the war, my thoughts about losing my family, losing myself.  We share our deepest fears, our most profound thoughts.  We bare our souls to each other, and I have never felt so free.  Around the time the sun comes up, we crawl back into bed, curling around one another.  The bed wasn’t really built for two people, but I have never slept so comfortably.  
  
We are woken suddenly by a small body that jumps on top of us in the bed.  “Time to wake up, Oeyum!  Time to wake up!”  
  
It takes me several moments to realize that I am still in bed with Kathryn, and it is Xaman who has jumped on top of us.  “Xaman!” I exclaim, glad that we kept some clothes on when we came back to bed.  “What time is it?”  
  
“It’s the afternoon!  Come on, it’s time to get up.”  Xaman climbs off the bed, over Kathryn, and she rolls over and sees him, suddenly self conscious, pulling the blankets up around her chin.  
  
“Xaman!” Sekaya admonishes from the doorway.  “You know you should knock before you enter your uncle’s room.”  I can tell that my sister is trying desperately to keep a straight face.  
  
Xaman puts his hands on his hips and gives his mother a confused look.  “This is Kathryn’s room.”  
  
“Either way.  You shouldn’t run in without permission.”  
  
The boy turns back to look at us, chagrined.  “Sorry, Oeyum.”  
  
Kathryn is sitting up in bed beside me, and I’m impressed that she’s dealing with this situation so well.  She’s usually a very private person.  “It’s all right, Xaman,” she says.  “You’re right; it’s time for us to get up.”  
  
Xaman looks at us for a moment, then back at his mother.  I can tell he’s about to say something he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself.  “Kathryn,” he asks, “are you going to be our real _tilla_ now?”  
  
Kathryn looks at me, a blush rising in her cheeks.  “What do you think, Chakotay?”  
  
I pull her back into my chest, wrapping both arms around her from behind as I look over her shoulder at my nephew.  “I think it’s a great idea.  Do you agree, Xaman?”  
  
My nephew thinks it’s the best idea he’s ever heard, and, judging by the look on her face, so does my sister.  
  
  



	4. Cicithan

**EPILOGUE**   
  


* * *

  
_Cicithan_

 

* * *

  
  
“Tata, watch!  Xaman taught me how to do a flip in the water.  Watch me!  Watch me!”  
  
“I’m watching, sweetheart,” I call from the grass where I stand a few meters from the edge of the water.  
  
My five-year-old daughter thinks that her twelve-year old cousin can do no wrong, and Xaman has been protective of Nimah since the day he knew she was coming.  I smile as they play together in _Loh ha_ , and Xaman impresses Nimah with all his tricks while she tries her best to imitate him.  Nimah looks a lot like her cousins, but her hair is a little bit lighter, and streaked with a tinge of auburn.  She has grown up mostly on Earth, but we come to Trebus every summer to spend a month at the family cabin near _Loh ha_.    
  
Muluc and I have added several rooms to the cabin, so that there is room for all of us, plus Ixhaan.  Gretchen Janeway has been to visit, too, as have Phoebe, Jeff and their boys.  There are five bedrooms in the cabin, now.  Sekaya and Muluc have their room, and Kathryn and I have ours.  The room that I built for Kathryn years ago now belongs to our children, and Xaman, Eme and their little brother Makiq share the fourth bedroom.  The fifth is reserved for Ixhaan, Gretchen, or other guests - Tom and B’Elanna, Harry Kim and his wife, the EMH, Seven.  The whole _Voyager_ family is welcome at _Loh ha_ , and most of them have been here to experience the redemption of the waters at one point or another.  
  
Eme, now nine, is at the water’s edge, patiently helping her _tilla_ with little Eddie.  Eddie is almost two.  Kathryn and I adopted him from a Bajoran orphanage a little over a year ago, and this is his first experience at the lake.  Eme and Kathryn are trying to get him to walk into the water, but he doesn’t seem so sure.  He is our reserved, cautious child, whereas Nimah is ready for anything, anytime.  
  
Nimah was a surprise, born a little more than nine months after that first night we made love in the cabin.  I hadn’t proposed yet when we found out she was coming.  I had thought I had plenty of time.  But, as always, the universe had other plans for Kathryn and me.  Kathryn and I were married in a small, private ceremony, here at _Loh ha_ , a few months before Nimah was born.  I have no regrets about any of it.  Nimah and Eddie are the greatest joys that have come into my life, after my wife, of course.  
  
I feel a quiet presence beside me and turn to see my sister, who is cradling Makiq, now eight months old.  I put my arm around her shoulders and hug her close to me.  “Thank you,” I say.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For helping me remember who I was.  For helping me find this.  For giving me my family back.”  
  
She shakes her head.  “You did that yourself, _suku’un_.  I was just here to make sure you didn’t screw up too badly.”  
  
I look out at the lake and smile, watching my wife, our children, my family, and I am at peace.  I am happy.  This does not mean things are simple.  Every day is a new challenge.  Life is never easy, and Kathryn and I have demanding careers that push us to our limits every day, but there is not a single moment when I regret my choice to let her into my life, into my heart and into my soul.  
  
I have learned many lessons from _Loh ha_ over the years.  Things change; they move in cycles.  In the winter, the lake freezes over and becomes ice.  In the spring it thaws, and in the summer, it becomes warm enough for people to swim in it.  _Loh ha_ has taught me that this change is not good or bad; it simply is.  The bugs, the beasts, the birds - they all simply exist and act in accordance with their nature.  _Do not rail against the storm, but instead adapt yourself_ \- my sister told me that night by the fire.  In the end, it was a storm that brought Kathryn and me together.  It is not the storm itself that is good or bad, but what you choose to do with it.  
  
I came to _Loh ha_ five years ago seeking redemption, but I learned something else.  To live is, in itself, a blessing.  _Cicithan_.  To exist, to live each moment to the best of my ability, to give myself in love to another and accept her love in return, to treat others with grace and courage, to draw strength from my family, to do what is right - this is all that is necessary for a good life, and anyone is capable of it, no matter where they have come from or what they have been through.  I came to _Loh ha_ seeking redemption, but instead, I discovered that I did not need to be redeemed.


End file.
